plastered

I totally mean it when I say it's about time I torture and pound my liver into smithereens with alcohol. There's no fun being the one holding a Coke when everyone else is having liquor. There's no fun waking up with rashes all over my limbs after only one shot. I don't handle rejection well, and by damn I wanna handle my liquor better.

So I proceeded to get myself plastered at Poppy Garden. 6 girls and 2 bottles of Chivas. I only managed to down a glass before starting to feel really really warm. And stupid.

But I was beaten by Wombat who guzzled the fire-liquid straight from the bottle. Crazy woman! But it was pleasantly rewarding to see those pristinely dressed and made up hotties cringe and do a little dry heave in the ladies when she hurled into the basin in plain sight.

Can't wait till Mambo Jambo night. And I want some Taro.

hey deze

Hey Deze.

Feels just like it. This has gotta be the hottest spell ever this whole year. My colleagues have been moaning and whining earlier this week, but I shrugged off the complaints about the unbearable heat because (1) the office is air-conditioned and (2) my room at home is air-conditioned. When the insurance agent I met up with over lunch told me she has to ditch the bed and sleep on the floor nowadays, I politely laughed and tsk-tsked obligatorily while mentally chastising her intolerance and spoiltness.

Then I was in the loo for about 5 minutes.

And I sweated more than I did this morning on the gym's cross-trainer.

DAMMIT IT'S HOT!

club med day one

Feeling very holiday-ey after checking out Air Asia's Merdeka Specials. Flights to Phuket is so cheap! But nobody wants to go with me! Not even my mum ("haaar, whole day just sit at the beach, nothing to see ar?"), not even Eryn ("haaar, you sure that time weather is good ar?")... and Bear-Bear just got back from Phuket so no point asking.

I WANT A BEACHY HOLIDAY!

Since cannot go forward, I go backwards. Introducing pictures of victim #8763 from extreme procrastination: Club Med Bintan! Yaya I know it was 2 months ago. But it still brings a swooning sigh from me everytime I look at the greens and blues.

DAY ONE

I'd be lying if I say the gloomy weather didn't affect my mood. Holidaying at the beach means red and hot-to-the-touch skin, sand between toes and ass-cheeks, and plentiful sun! Sun so hot you can hear droplets of seawater sizzling on your skin. Sun so glaring that the sea becomes one huge reflective blue-green foil.

Walking towards the ferry at Singapore's jetty, I miss my sun.

The clouds parted slightly when we reached the Bintan jetty, but it was still drizzling. I haven't done any research about Bintan, and I certainly didn't expect the jetty to be superb, but it was nice. Better than the Pangkor Island ones. But now that Bintan has many other golf resorts, maybe it's wise for the immigration department to have more than ONE counter?

The room is to die for. HUGE king-size bed with a day bed by the window! The bellboy said to not leave windows unlocked or monkeys will have a party. What, they know how to get the beer from the fridge and peanuts from the cabinet? The lanai overlooks a neat little cove. I must've stood (stoned) there for quite some time, because when I regained my bearings it was already dark. And that could mean only one thing.

Feeding time! I squeaked with joy at the entrance to the main dining area. I didn't know where to start picking up chow! One thing I noticed though, there're special sections for Japanese and Korean food every day. And yeah, most of the patrons were them. Food's great with an abundance of selection!

I didn't appreciate Club Med's practice of forcing their employees to dine with patrons though. The reason I say force is because it was damn obvious the 2 guys who sat with me didn't give a hoot about the conversation they're supposed to create. I got halfhearted "where're you from"s (the fact that they were attacking their food and only glanced at me in between mouthfuls made me feel quite B-class) and I gave the expected "which activity/department are you in charge of"s, cooed appropriately and then we exchanged lukewarm "see you around"s and they're off, stuffing handfuls of grapes/lychees/whatever snacks small enough to fit into their pockets.

And does anyone know what's that fruit with snakeskin-skin in the middle? The insides look like garlic. And taste weird. Nicely weird but lacking juice.

They have a few other themed restaurants like this one in the vicinity as well. But those had zero patrons. And the fresh orchid on a ribbon tied to the nicely-folded napkin whispered to me that I wasn't gonna be able to afford it.

The first night's show was a fusion of different dances. All the performers were employees in charge of day activities or some other stuff. I wonder how they manage to find time to practise. They're up when I was up, and they're still up when I've gone to bed. Hmmm. Maybe Club Med closes on a certain weekday? They do need their off-days, right?

(when I posted this picture, the first thing that came to my mind was: wow if only we get this kind of response at church)

DAY TWO and DAY THREE coming up next day. I'm mighty sleepy.

cats

Today I pet some cats in the pet shop.
Then my fingers felt itchy. Quite painful itchiness.
I must have scratched my scalp, because it's now itching like a bitch.
And my neck.

I should learn to wash my hands after I do animals.

why do you love me

I'm no barbie doll
I'm not your baby girl
I've done ugly things and I have made mistakes
And I am not as pretty as those girls in magazines
I am rotten to my core if they're to be believed
So what if I'm no baby bird hanging upon your every word?
Nothing ever smells of roses that rises out of mud

Why do you love me
Why do you love me
Why do you love me, it's driving me crazy

You're not some baby boy
Why you acting so surprised
You're sick of all the rules
Well I'm sick of all your lies
Now I've held back a wealth of shit, I think I'm gonna choke
I'm standing in the shadows with the words stuck in my throat
Does it really come as a surprise when I tell you I don't feel good?
Nothing ever came from nothing man
Oh man, ain't that the truth

Why do you love me
Why do you love me
Why do you love me, it's driving me crazy
I get back up and I do it again
I get back up and I do it again
I get back up and I do it again
I get back up and I do it, I do it again

SFX

My response to a coupla things...

ONE
Italy won against Germany! A bit hard to swallow that a bunch of old farts could beat the hottest potential World Cup 2006 champion. That aside, I'm in a conundrum about the next match! I enjoy Portugal very much (including how they're good in provoking others muahahaha that takes damn good acting skills can... and of course Ronaldo has to be so bloody good-looking) but on the other hand I don't want this to be Zidane's final game. He's got skills, experience and style. I like. France or Portugal. Portugal or France. Why can't they BOTH be in the finals. Siiiiiiiiigh.

TWO
Superman. *swoon* Yayaya I know he's got like 3 different facial expressions throughout the entire movie, he doesn't light up the screen, he seems too young and carefree, but... *swoon* I have to quote my colleague: If you didn't enjoy this movie, you're not the target audience. Only thing I'm unhappy about is the fact that he fathered a child. HOW CAN! How can any woman have Superman?

I'm watching Superman again. Tonight. Yes I'm watching it two nights in a row.

blurry

I habitually reached for my pass as I neared the auto-gate to my office parking this morning. See, I'm a systematic person. I prefer some things to be habitual. As soon as I leave my house, I'll take out the Touch & Go card and my parking card, and put them in the small groove alongside the window buttons. On the way to the office, the Touch & Go card will be nearer to me, because I reach the toll booth first. Once I pass through the toll gate, I'll slip the Touch & Go card behind the parking card so I don't have to look for the right card while driving (very dangerous!). Then on the way home from the office, I'll just reverse the arrangements of the 2 cards. (luckily I don't need more than 2 cards at any time, or else it'll be a race between my coherence and your patience reaching the eye-rolling irritation zone)

Anyway, after habitually beeping my parking card and habitually going past the boom gate and rearranging my cards in the groove at the same time, I habitually took off my sunglasses and threw them onto the passenger seat because the parking lot is, y'know, dark.

Then, suddenly, my whole world became blurry.

I forgot I didn't put on my contact lenses today. Those were my new glasses bouncing off the passenger seat onto the floor! I wailed in dismay and tried to grope around for them and control my steering wheel at the same time. Someone honked at me from behind and I had to drive up 4 winding floors to a vacant parking spot based totally on my instincts and boldness bolstered by The Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift.

At least I'm nicely bespectacled and typing this now.

gym bike

The gym bike bit me.

Sweat was extra painful today, so I examined my thigh and saw a slab of skin rolled up into a human skin Chinese spring roll. The pain intensified, I swear. All I could do to not yell in the shower was focusing on the smell of poo wafting from across the toilet cubicles.

Discovery #1
Toilets should be built further away from shower cubicles. Especially if the shower comes with hot water. The heat emanating from 10 showers combined gives the poo smell, a riper tang. I know the piping and drainage system and whatevernot makes it only rational and all, and 10 different brands of shampoo + shower gel flavours are quite effective coverups but how come I still know that someone's pooing when I shower?! No, I don't want to change to richer-smelling shampoo.

Discovery #2
Do not hit the gym bike in shorts. The seat is designed by a evil, cruel person whose intention is to make it as hard as possible (for greater impact upon contact with the ass to transform fat into slapping sound energy or bouncing kinetic energy) and as wide as possible (to avoid the seat from disappearing between asscheeks and ensure maximum friction between seat and inner thighs to transform fat into skin-peeling heat energy).

Wear long, thick pants, folks. Layer the seat of long pants with tissue, if you must.

And I shouldn't have laughed when my friend told me the other day that virgins should be prohibited from using the gym bike.

I don't know how long must I walk with kangkang legs.

beached

I can't believe how bushed (lazy) I've been with work and getting a social life back (and watching downloaded nonsense) to write something worth reading.

Woo. I have a social life! Have been making new friends at the gym, got reacquainted with some ex-colleagues and I was hit on for the first time in my life at the club last night. Alright, he was falling-down drunk and blabbering about it being his friend's birthday and all... and he was all over Eryn before sauntering over my way... but a first's a first. And by G I shall choose to erase these little unimportant details and remember the occasion fondly.

Gosh do I sound like a high-school girl or what.

I'm brimming with positiveness and bubbly excitement. Must be the alcohol (I had a sip of JD) and fitful 2-hour sleep. That or the hottie holding my hand steering me through the crowd last night (aaah the simple pleasures of life - and being at 154cm).

Eryn, eat your heart out. *insert dramatic evil laughter with echo*

fitness first?

I can't stand the personal trainer calling me day in day out to sign up for sessions with him. I can't stand myself for not being able to just say a firm "no" and stop the harassment. I always, always have a problem rejecting people. So now the beating around the bush has taken the beaten track of needing to consult my doctor, talk to my friends first... the works. What the hell was I thinking? Why do I need to cook up excuses? To not hurt his feelings? What if it just gets his hopes higher? Why do I even care? I won't be the only one saying "no" to personal training! Aiyaiyai.

I'm either a too-nice blurbat or an evil liar.
Either way, it's not good. How to change?

On a totally different note, Eryn just got back from Pulau Rawa with her housemate and some Spanish hunks. I also want!!! (a holiday with abundant sun and sea... Spaniards... optional)

prison break

I'd love to write more often, but I'm too hooked to Prison Break. And gym. The former very supermegawillingly and latter... siiiiiiiigh. What needs to be done still has to be done.

firsts

A week of firsts for me.

I saw my little brother hold hands with a girl. I felt half-weirded out, half-jealous.

I started work at the new office. Colleagues and bosses are lovely. Some little hiccups on my working tools but I'm sure they can (and will) be fixed.

I joined Fitness First. Cost me a bomb but I swore to myself I'll go everyday before (and maybe after) work. The reason of my sudden gungho-ness is below.

I almost had a heart attack (I think). Was at Kinokuniya and listening to mum explaining from a recipe book how easy healthy food can be prepared when I suddenly could hear nothing but my heart thudding against my ribs. The beats accelerated. Blood rushed to my brains and my lower body became numb. I started suffocating and swaying off my feet. I tried to call for my brother but couldn't utter a sound. 5 seconds of this and my vision started to clear. My heart was still racing. I was scared shitless! Was that a stroke? Pre-stroke? Mini cardiac arrest?

Happy birthday Nene. Not everyone can share the limelight with the devil. You have it this year so flaunt it ya! I love you.

dentist

I'm back from the dentist's for my half-yearly scaling and polishing. Sometimes half-yearly becomes yearly, or bi-yearly, but a mild toothache has been bugging me for some time now. Nothing I lost sleep over, but enough to give me the tingles when I have ice-cream, and wanna headbang my bookshelf when I accidentally bite down hard on something harder at the hardest angle.

The pain echoes. And then ebbs to a dull, thudding discomfort from the deepest part of the cavity. This is when I feel like yanking my tooth out (but don't know which one) with a pair of pliers than sit around unable to focus on anything else but the dull, small pain. Day-um.

So I had a filling. The tooth kind, not the stomache kind.

I told the dentist I didn't feel any effect a minute after the first anaesthetic shot. She said maybe I'm the slower-to-pick-up kind and waited with me for another five. I should've kept my mouth shut and just wait as long as it takes for the numbness to take place. Obviously I didn't, and told her no drill is going into my mouth until saliva runs down the left side of my face and I don't feel it.

She gave me another anaesthetic shot. 3 seconds into that and I couldn't open my left eye. My eyelid drooped all of a sudden and I was like, whoa... why's the room tilting, why can't I focus my vision... and I keeled over the dentist chair. My heart was pounding. The dentist chuckled (evil snicker, I'm sure) as her nurse observed how I'm similar to Margaret the white woman. Apparently her visual nerve is located close to her tooth nerve (whatever) like me and the anaesthetic affected both nerves. So many nerve explanations got me more nervous. I don't give a hoot who's Margaret. Will my contact lense roll up into my eye socket? Will I be able to drive home?

The dentist chuckled some more and said, relax. Then I heard the drill starting up.

going home

I'm on a one-week break before reporting at the new company. I still have no idea how the parking system works, where to get my monthly pass, when to sign up (should I even?) for the gym opposite the office, where to stay if my housemates quit the house... etc.

I don't want to think and worry about those just yet. A break's a break!

And I'm driving home tomorrow. Alone. Must remember to pack 4 hours worth of CDs. And food. After all, it's the first time I'm driving back to my parents', and I seriously have no idea about directions. Let's hope the roadsigns are clear enough. Clear as in not blocked by unkempt trees. Clear as in close proximity to one another and placed at every junction/traffic light. I don't wanna ram my car into someone's face just because that someone decides to pull something funny when I'm forced to stop and ask for directions.

Am effing tired because last night was closure night. Glad it went well, but boy am I bushed now. Brains still kicking and screaming for another round of intellectual pummelling from CSI Season 6 (I finally learned how to download stuff from the net!)... but... eyes... cannot... open...

chivas?

Oooer. I just passed up free tickets to Genting this weekend for some Chivas event. Somehow the phrase "free flow of booze whole night long amidst satin-clad hot chicks and suave hunks with half-unbuttoned shirts" doesn't really register anywhere within my comprehension range.

But I know some names who'll kick my ass (hard) for not giving them the tickets instead.

So I have my response ready already.

"My life is brilliant.
My love is pure."



Ya I think this entry is totally pointless too.

random posts

I know I still haven't put up pictures from Club Med Ria Bintan. I know I have to do it soon or the feelings and memories of the place will start slipping off like the straps of my spaghetti right now. But not now.

Now I want to plant my ass on the floor, kick my stubby legs and flail my flabby arms and whine. Because KoL is down for maintenance.

Ya I'm hopelessly addicted to Kingdom of Loathing. You Red Alert, FIFA and super graphical colourfully realistic visual gamers can laugh all you want. But I can play KoL whenever I'm stuck for ideas at work. Can you? Caaaaan you?

So I cleaned up my desktop. Been procrastinating but cannot anymore-lah, it's my last week (I think) at work. Boss hasn't said the word and he's abroad so I cannot uncross my fingers until Thursday. Found some interesting bits of pictures so I shall blog about these instead:

Couldn't resist taking a picture of this guy standing in front of me while queuing at the cashier in Isetan KLCC. I think it's his company tee. I hope the pun is intended. A company that innocently (and proudly) shouts the tagline "gentle touch, hard results" is so asking for it. I like it though. Totally bold!

I was so proud - I cooked lunch using the office microwave. The franks were black pepper flavoured. The baked beans were tomato flavoured. My ass cursed and suffered. Let's just say there was more than a load and I discovered an ass can do much more than just explode.

Oh and Sarah bought me a huge-ass box of mint chocolates from Langkawi. They were too sweet for my liking.

What. You expectin' something wittier?

jogoya

The reason for an identical facial expression in photographs 20 minutes apart is either (a) the food was so good throughout that I stoned in a dreamy, gluttony trance for 3 hours, or (b) the food sucked balls so consistently hard that I had to force myself to consistently smile the fake, enjoying-it smile.

In Jogoya's case, sadly, it was the latter.

They should place more literate, English-proficient staff before the entrance. This dude didn't even smile while shoo-ing me to queue at the registration counter (I made the grave mistake of walking straight up to the payment counter before registering but how would I know). I asked what I'm supposed to do first. He pointed again to the little queue-less counter at the side. I stood there totally lost until a Chinese guy in a better suit came and explained.

They should place more literate, English-proficient staff at the entrance. Not someone who shrieks "See receipt! Show me receipt!" while flagging customers two-steps onto the red carpet leading to the 30,000 square feet (so I was told) interior. If this is a semi-fastfood franchise, I'd understand and smile apologetically and speedily dig out the receipt from my already-cluttered handbag. But I just paid RM101.20 for dinner and my mood sank lower at the cheapness everything was oozing before I even set foot inside.

If this is your first time at Jogoya, I guarantee you'll be awestruck by the spaciousness of the set-up and the layout of the food. I got lost trying to find my way back to the table a coupla times. Ya I know I have no bloody cow sense of direction to start off with, but this place is huge.

Check out the dry ice for the smoky effect. Woo! Alas, the 2 workers featured here got into a scuffle. With real punches being thrown and shoving until another burlier worker had to stand in the middle and pry them apart. All these unfolded right in front of maybe 5 guests queuing for dimsum. Does wonder to one's appetite, this.

Bamboo clams, herbed snails, custard paos and ginseng soup. Only the custard pao tasted nice. But their raw food section was good! Oysters were the biggest I've ever sampled, and the salmon freshest. Other than that... errr...

Do not, I repeat, do not go for their king crab whatever extravaganza. There's this little special placard that says VIP members are entitled to king crab rolls, grilled king crab, curry king crab etc, and small fry customers like yours truly got all excited when I saw that I could actually order a soupy king crab do in some special fireproof, waterproof paper... and did. Oh my gee that was the foulest crab ever, royal descendent or not. Tasted like yesterday's VIP's leftovers now passed on to small fry customers to clean up.

Proceeded to sample desserts very quickly (what to do, main courses didn't excite me). The cakes and pastries were nothing to shout about, but

the lime & lemon sorbet and mango & passionfruit sorbet were heavenly with a capital H. I think they're from Movenpick. Said so on the container-lah. Yummylicious! The mushrooms were okay too (no, these are not dessert, it just arrived... very late). And the coconuts, oh the coconuts (mouth waters). I set myself a goal of emptying 20 coconuts (to make up for the RM50 I didn't/couldn't consume on food) but I could manage a meager 5 before giving up. The remorse shall follow me to my grave.

What's a Taiwanese franchise without Taiwan's very own mwah-chee? I fell in love with this sticky pepejal ever since my first Taiwan trip 4 years ago. Rock hard and whitish uncooked, jelly-ish and semi-transparent cooked, it's a larger version of our local Chinese tong-yuen (little glutinous rice balls one eats a month before Lunar New Year) without the sesame/peanut stuffing. A bit too sweet, this, but fine nevertheless.

Jasiminne the Penguin has much better pictures (and more positive comments) about Jogoya than I do. Go go.

birthday post

My sum of birthday celebrations had been wonderful this year. I had 3 cakes! A blackforest from dad, a cheesecake from Temptations (and being the good girl I am, I shared with my colleagues) and a tiny but delicious (have to say this or I'll be nagged till the cows come home) cappucino cake from Eryn.

At home
It still warms my heart listening to dad, mum and Ian singing Happy Birthday in perfect unison (although the clapping-while-singing era has passed) shyly. I love this tradition of our family. Year after year, blackforest after blackforest (dad proudly assumed it's still my favourite cake and I love him too much to tell him otherwise), shy Happy Birthday after Happy Birthday in not-too-loud voices... I don't want this to ever stop.

With the special someone or ex-someone
I've decided to just forget about the whole "is it right is it wrong" debate and just bask in the attention and loving while the moment lasts. How can you suddenly just stop loving someone anyways? Had pre-birthday dinner at Renaissance (realised I couldn't eat as much at a buffet like I used to... hurray!) and a cosy first-time jazz experience at Cotton Club. Then on my birthday we went to Rahsia (ptui!!!) which I really hated. The "renovate a rundown bungalow into a hopefully niche acquired taste expensive eatery" concept totally didn't appeal to me. Reminded me of just another Sitiawan house and it brought back the smell of this particular corridor in my kindergarten and the front yard of a neighbour's house when I accidentally kicked and broke his flower pot... *shudder* And us being the only patron wasn't exactly encouraging. To add oil to fire, I was aghast with the price of the food and beverages. I won't go there again!

With Sistahs

My favouritest, coziest, best-equipped home beside my parents'. I've always loved going to Angela's. Singapore might as well be non-existent in my vocab and geographical knowledge if it isn't for Angela's apartment. It's a real home.

Had a blast shopping, watching TV, shopping again, clubbing at MoS (this is worthy of another blog entry altogether), making vegetarian hotpot, failing a chocolate muffin session, and our MOST IMPORTANT RITUAL (must-do in every visit)...

...cooking bacon and eggs for breakfast. I love my dear, dear Sistahs!

With college mates
After a few birthdays in Chilli's, we have now officially switched to Italiannies! Although they don't have bottomless drinks (tomato is the way to go), their bottomless warm slices of bread with olive oil and vinegar can be quite addictive. I was quite disappointed that the guys couldn't make it (sigh, guys... got girlfriend already cannot expect too much outta them) but us girls had a good time anyways lamenting about how we're all 26 or 27, successful (somewhat) in career, have pleasant personalities... but are all boyfriend-less. Then we launched into a debate whether being courted by a lot of great guys or just one Mr Right is better. Typical single women's topic of the day/week/month/year/until we get hitched.

Are we all single because we're not skinny?

the wine company

My first RoM do. First afternoon wedding party. First anything associated with getting married that's not held in Dewan Orang Ramais, hotels, chinese restaurants or high school assembly halls.

The Wine Company is such a cosy, lovely place! Adore everything about it, from the dimly-lit interior to spacious patio. I was thinking, aaah, Jamie is so thoughtful to throw a little party for close friends at her solemnisation. In such a sweet little place! And nice deco! And good food with musical arrangements! See! Advertising people are delightfully different this way...

I was gushing with excitement when I proudly related (show off) this fellow advertising industry member's creativity to college mates working in Singapore.

"Aiyo, everyone in Singapore does this-lah. To them, RoM is a big event because they can finally buy a house after that. And by getting rid of close friends at this event they don't need to be invited again to the main wedding dinner thingy. And usually the dinner is maybe 2 years down the road. So any other lounge or coffee house would have party packages like the one you went to."

*poof*

rice burgers

Land of McD's rice burgers, here I come again!

That's right bitches. Tomorrow I shall be going to Singapore, where good Sistahs bake and bad Sistahs shake (you no bad, Eryn. Val bad). And I promise to happily lick the last bit of my home-baked too-sour lemon cheesecake this time, Nene. It'll be a bitchin' weekend.

I should've just shuddup yesterday. Why post about good things to come and the crap. My equally-insecure-as-the-owner handphone got upset and took "more good things to come" personally and my memory card went kaput.

Corrupted memory card.
Precious pictures, ringtones, video clips of my deceased gramma and the band...
All gone.

FUCK!